The car was still out of sight behind the box hedge but was getting closer by the second. She didn’t need to see the driver to know it had to be Spencer. None of her parents’ friends, or even their children, would drive something that sounded like that.
She fixed her most powerful stare on Davis. “Go. Now.
Roger touched his grandson on the shoulder, turning him toward the house. “Do fish ever sleep, Davis?”
Meg watched them go into the house through the garage and almost broke into tears at the relief. She would tell Spencer, but in her own time. If he found out by surprise, it would be too dreadful.
The door had just shut behind Roger and Davis when Spencer’s black Camaro, kayak strapped to the roof rack, came to a halt beside her Toyota. Meg remembered suddenly the Matchbox cars Davis carried with him wherever he went. Had he left any lying on the back seat where Spencer might see them? The back door was still wide open.
Spencer got out, and closed his own door, his gaze fixed on her. Without so much as a glance inside her car, he reached over and flicked shut the door on the Toyota. Meg let out her breath, her heart pounding crazily. She wasn’t going to survive, she just wasn’t.
CHAPTER FOUR
“MORNING,” Spencer said. He’d forgotten how great her tanned legs and shapely hips looked in shorts. His body responded to memories of its own, and he jammed his hands into his pockets. “Ready?”
She tugged nervously on her long braid. “My kayak’s in the garage. Can you give me a hand?”
He started walking over. “How are your folks?”
“Fine. Mother’s got her garden club thing today.”
“And your dad doesn’t want to breathe the same air as me.”
Meg stopped short. “That’s not—”
“I saw him high-tail it into the house.”
“He—”
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter.” Spencer moved under the open garage door. “Who’s the boy?”
“The boy?” Her voice sounded strangled.
He glanced at her. “Yeah. Is he one of your brother’s kids?”
“What? Oh. Yes. That’s right.” She hurried past him to the far end of the kayak.
“It’s Nick who’s married, isn’t it?” He’d liked her brothers, Nick more than the other two, but maybe that was because Nick was a geologist and not a lawyer or a banker. Her parents were another matter altogether.
“All three are married now.” Meg moved to the far end of the kayak. “You don’t have to be married to have a child.”
“Ever the nitpicker.” Spencer bent to pick up his end. “We’d better move if we’re going to catch that ferry.”
They loaded the Orca onto his roof rack and tied it down. Spencer lifted the trunk so Meg could put her backpack inside. He glanced up at the house and saw the living room curtain twitch. Some things never changed. With a mocking salute at the window, he slid into the driver’s seat. Then he gunned the engine and with a roar spun around the circular drive and back out to the road.
Meg shook her head. “What are you, Jimmy Dean?”
Spencer laughed. “Your father would be disappointed if I didn’t put on a show.” He glanced at her T-shirt. “Are you going to be warm enough? It can get cool on the water, especially if you get wet.”
“You mean when you get wet Don’t worry, I’ve got a sweatshirt in my backpack.” She glanced around the interior. “From the outside this car looks like it belongs in a Mad Max movie, but inside it’s immaculate.”
Spencer shrugged. “The inside is what I see. Didn’t know you were so easily impressed.”
She grinned. “Cleanliness is always impressive where least expected.”
“Very funny.” He scowled to hide the pleasure he felt at simply being with her. “Put on a CD if you like.”
She flipped through the disks. “Hey, this is your dad’s band. ‘Ray and the Brass Monkeys, Live.’ Remember the time you took me backstage at his concert? Gosh, he was good. Where is he these days?”
Spencer frowned. He’d forgotten Meg had heard his dad play. And met him. And liked him. Hopefully he could keep the two apart. He’d hate Meg to see his father in his current state. Hate for her to pity him. Hey, what was he thinking? This was Ray! He was just in a slump. Back up in no time.
“He’s, ah, he’s at the cottage.”
“Really?” Meg glanced up. “Is he in town for a concert?”
“He’s...taking a breather. He probably won’t be around long. You know him—here today, gone tomorrow.”
“Like father, like son,” Meg murmured, and put the disk into the state-of-the-art CD player.
The opening bars of Ray’s upbeat brassy style of blues-rock fusion drowned out some of the muffler noise. Then the gravelly voice of Ray Valiella came on, and the background noise just seemed to blend in. Spencer began to tap his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Are you going to get your muffler fixed?”
He had it booked into a local garage, but he couldn’t resist teasing her. “It’s supposed to sound that way.”
She threw him a look. When are you going to grow up?
“I like your hair long,” he said. Now this was the understatement of the year. Her hair fascinated him. Thick and fine and heavy, like braided corn silk, it hung over her shoulder and down her blue cotton-clad breast. His gaze lingered where it shouldn’t. Then met hers.
She turned to look straight ahead. “What happens once I decide on a project?”
Damn. For a few minutes they’d slipped into their old way of talking—but then her cool wariness had brought him back to reality. He might not have changed, but the situation sure as hell had. Get used to it, Valiella. “You’ll need to write up your experimental design using proper scientific method. But you know that.”
“I think I do, but it’s been so long. I’m afraid I may have forgotten things.”
Spencer glanced at her. That straight little nose didn’t ride quite as high as it used to. He wondered why. “Then you’ll just learn it over again,” he said. “Or ask me—I might know.”
She smiled at that. He’d forgotten the way her smile could warm him deep down inside. There’d been other women, before and since, though right now he couldn’t recall a single one. But who had Meg McKenzie become? One minute she wore her maturity like she used to wear silk blouses, with confidence and style. The next minute she was a mass of nerves, as jumpy as a spooked cat.
They cruised down the highway to Swartz Bay, hitting every green light from Elk Lake on. “It’s times like this you’ve just gotta believe in a supreme being,” Spencer said, one hand draped across the top of the wheel.
“Oh?” Meg replied with a sarcastic grin. “You mean, he’s turning the lights green so Spencer Valiella won’t have to slow down?”
He grinned. “She is making sure Meg McKenzie catches her ferry.” He paused. “It is still McKenzie, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She frowned at him. “I told you I wasn’t married.”
“Right.” Then who was the guy who’d answered her phone this morning when Spencer had called to let her know which ferry he was aiming to catch? He’d sounded sleepy, as though he’d reached over to the bedside table to pick up the receiver. “Got a